Solo's Luck
by MLaw
Summary: Napoleon finds himself in deep trouble and Illya is determined to get him out of it, even at the cost of both their careers with UNCLE. Originally posted on section7mfu on both Live Journal and Dreamwidth for the Picfic Tuesday challenge. pre-saga


"Not possible!" Illya barked at the man speaking to him. "Napoleon would simply not do such a thing." The news he'd just heard caught the Russian completely off guard after he just arrived at headquarters from an extended mission in Belgium.

"I'm telling you, he's been suspended and he's lucky he was only sent home. UNCLE is handling it instead of the police. There's talk of him being sent to Tartarus," Agent Styles spoke candidly. *

Kuryakin's face went red with anger, "Napoleon Solo would never commit rape. Never!" He paced back and forth in the conference room, almost beside himself at the news.

"You're just defending him because he's your partner," Styles spoke sarcastically to the Russian.

Illya charged, grabbing the man by the shirt, shoving him hard against the wall.

"How dare you!" Usually keeping his emotions in check; he released Styles before his temper got the better of him.

The agent readjusted his suit jacket in a huff. "You're lucky you stopped when you did, otherwise I would have filed a complaint against you myself. I think you and your partner are just wrapped a little too tight..."

"Get out of here before I give you a real reason to file a complaint," Illya barked at him, glaring as the man stormed out the door. He decided he never liked Styles anyway, and he was at best, a second-rate agent.

Illya debated as to whether to call his partner on his communicator, but decided that wasn't wise, since everything was monitored. For that reason, he thought it best to visit Napoleon at home. He arrived just after eleven in the morning, giving his coded knock on Solo's door, and letting himself in with his key.

There was no answer and surprisingly the security alarm was disengaged. He looked around the neatly decorated apartment, with nautical paintings on the walls, as well as a photograph of him and Napoleon, taken on a security camera at headquarters, as they came through a cloud of red smoke.

"Napoleon?" He called.

"In the bathroom... I'll be right out."

Napoleon walked into his living room, unshaven and appeared drawn. He looked as though he'd slept in his clothes and reeked of alcohol. He hardly looked his usual suave and confident self, and that, the Russian found very disconcerting.

"You did not have your alarm set, that is not wise," Illya commented, as he headed to the kitchen. The sink was filled with unwashed dishes and generally untidy. This was not like his partner who was usually meticulous.

He found the percolator and set about brewing some fresh coffee, and when it was ready he brought a large cup of it out for Napoleon as he sat at his dining table. He was lost in his thoughts when the steaming beverage was put in front of him, the strong smell of the coffee drawing him out of his fog.

"So I'm guessing you heard the news_ tovarisch_?" He looked up wearily at his friend.

"Yes I did. Napoleon you cannot let this get you down, you need to fight it."

"Kind of hard to do. It's her word against mine and I have no proof to back me up. We had consensual sex...I never forced myself on her. Illya, I could never do that to a woman. I just couldn't.

"I know my friend, now tell me the story. What happened that night?"

He took a large gulp from his mug, taking a steadying breath before starting his tale.

"She was gorgeous...blonde, pouting red lips and her eyes seemed to change from blue to green." His description of her sounded surprisingly wistful and for a man in Solo's position. "Veronica Tate from the secretarial pool and I met for drinks and a light supper and well, one thing led to another and we ended up back at her place."

"We made love, and when it was time for me to leave, she became irate, saying..."

"Wham bam thank you ma'am? That's it?"

He shook his head, "I asked her what she meant by it and she told me she wasn't going to be a one night stand. She was acting rather possessive."

"At first I really couldn't believe she was saying that. as I thought she understood it was no strings attached. I guess I assumed wrongly that all the ladies in the pool knew I kept things casual. They're prone to talking amongst themselves and I thought they were pretty familiar with...well, _me, how I am, that is. _He shook his head again," She became rather shrewish, demanding to know when I'd see her again, and by that point I'd become annoyed, so I told her this was the first and last she'd see of me..._privately_. I decided it was best to give her a wide berth if I saw her at headquarters."

"Security was barking at my office door the next day, and I was escorted, without an explanation, straight to Waverly's office. I was told point blank I'd been accused of raping Veronica and was lucky that I would only be suspended while the matter was being investigated, and was ordered home. The Old Man looked right through me, as if weren't there. Illya," Napoleon hesitated," I could be sent to..."

_"Tartarus_, yes I heard," Illya finished for him, " but I will be damned if this is going to happen to you my friend. I will help you get away if it comes to that, but hopefully it will not."

"Running away isn't my style, you know that."

Illya tried smiling. "What is your American saying? He who fights and runs away..."

"Yeah, yeah...lives to fight another day. Hmm, we'll see," Napoleon cringed.

Italian food was ordered and delivered for lunch, as Napoleon looked like he needed a good meal and some rest. His being alone during this hadn't helped matters, but the Russian figured his company would at least help his partner feel better. He was on Napoleon's side and that meant a lot to the American, for all it was worth.

They talked for a bit, and Napoleon, losing his steam, went to bed; his depression having taken hold of him and drained him of his energy.

The Russian peeked in on his partner after cleaning up the dishes as well as the kitchen; finding him sound asleep, but at least not slumber induced by alcohol. He'd been in that place himself and knew drinking was not a good idea when feeling down.

Kuryakin spent the night in the spare bedroom, making sure Napoleon had no access to liquor as he made a point of stashing the scotch, just in case. His partner didn't need that to affect his judgement as he neede to remain clear headed to fight this. The bottle of vodka in the freezer had little left in it and Illya finished that off himself before heading to bed.

In the morning he saw to it Napoleon ate a good breakfast, showered and shaved, making himself more presentable. Once he emerged from his bedroom dressed in a pair of grey slacks and a navy polo shirt, the American looked much better and handsome as ever.

Illya gave his partner a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder,"You look much better, now stay that way please?"

"I'll try, Scouts honor," Napoleon replied, pouring himself another cup of coffee. "Thanks buddy."

He returned to his own apartment to shower and dress, as Illya had to be at headquarters for an early debrief with Waverly.

.

The Russian approached the conference room doors with some trepidation, and as they opened he stepped inside, walking immediately to his usual seat at the table. Lisa Rogers wasn't at her desk, and that made for no relaxing chit chat before heading into the lion's den.

"Ah Mr. Kuryakin, yes...I've read your written report on the affair in Brussels and your conclusions and results are most satisfactory. Do you think we may have trouble again from that sector?"

"Not unless THRUSH can rebuild their satrap quickly and I have my doubts about that. They will most likely move on to a new location, as is their usual modus operandi; there were very few of them left from the operation and they were mostly underlings, hardy capable of starting up a new satrap. They will have to replace key personnel and that will, no doubt, take some time."

Illya cleared his throat, wanting to broach the subject of his partner's dilemma.

The Old Man's bushy eyebrows came together under his furrowed brow, taking note of the hardened look in his Russian's eyes; they seemed to change color with his mood and at the moment they were a steel blue-grey.

"Yes Mr. Kuryakin, I know what you're thinking, and I will not discuss Mr. Solo's predicament. All I will say is the matter is under investigation."

"With all due respect sir, surely you are aware Napoleon Solo is capable of many things, but one of them is not rape. I know his reputation with the ladies precedes him, but I have never witnessed him to be anything but a gentleman whether in bed with a lady or not. Sir it is not in his nature to do such a despicable thing to a woman, much less one he works with here at headquarters."

"Young man, I have warned Mr. Solo on numerous occasions to control his urges when it comes to the fairer sex before it led to trouble. My words have obviously gone unheeded and now...well hindsight is always twenty-twenty as they say. It's a pity Mr. Solo will have to learn the hard way, at the price of his career with UNCLE."

"Excuse me?" Illya's eyes opened wide.

"I've said too much already. You are dismissed Mr. Kuryakin."

"Nyet...no. I will not be brushed off. Now tell me, has a verdict been reached without Napoleon having the chance of proving his innocence?"

"A decision has been made as he already had his chance, but it was only his word. Without sounding indelicate, the young lady in question had physical evidence, bruising and such and there was direct evidence of Mr. Solo's having had intercourse with her. I'm sorry, but it is an open and closed case. We have no recourse but to strip Mr. Solo of his designation as CEA, you will take over for him, of course, as he will be sent to..."

"NO!" Illya stood up, barking at Waverly. "This you will not do to him. He is innocent!"

"I'm sorry Mr. Kuryakin, but it was the vote of the Section I Chiefs, four to one against him. The reputation of this organization cannot be sullied by such an incident. I am afraid there was no choice as UNCLE must maintain the highest of standards."

"Four to one?"

"Yes young man, "Waverly cleared his throat, softening his voice."You don't think for one moment that I didn't believe Mr. Solo?"

"Sorry sir, I apologize,"Illya lowered his head.

"Unfortunately my stance in his favor has done no good," Waverly rubbed his temple, as he had a devil of a headache. He was about to lose his best agent because of this confounded situation.

"I have said more than I should," Waverly said.. "Sadly in twenty four hours time, Napoleon Solo will be taken to the airport, and put on a transport headed for the South Pole, and there is little to nothing that can be done about it...unless someone could come up with a plan to save Mr. Solo. You wouldn't know of any such person would you Mr. Kuryakin?"

The Russian gave a sly half smile. "No sir, I have no idea."

"Pity then, dismissed young man." The Old Man sent him off with a wave of his hand.

Illya went directly to Napoleon's apartment, only to find the door sealed. Security had already been there, and he cursed to himself for not anticipating this. Waverly had to have known his people were on their way to take custody of Solo, then again, knowing it was happening... was that perhaps why he spoke of the transfer at the airport?

That was where he would have to rescue his partner, and hope they both didn't get caught in the process, otherwise it could be a one-way ticket for both of them to the UNCLE prison facility.

Illya returned to headquarters, discovering his partner was still there, locked away in a holding cell, with no visitors permitted. His head beginning to throb and he asked himself, was it stress, or the fact that he'd not eaten since breakfast, as it was now past sunset.

He took a deep breath surmising it was both. Illya headed to the commissary, even though he wasn't really hungry, but grabbing a cup of tea and a baloney sandwich, as they had already shut the kitchen down for hot meals. He could do nothing until Napoleon was being moved to the airport, and decided food would be a good thing.

There were a few secretaries having coffee there and they hunched together as soon as they saw him. Guilt by association, Illya presumed.

He took one bite of his sandwich, but shoved it aside, not really interested in it and as he raised his mug to sip from it, one of the secretaries approached him. He recalled her name was Eunice Horvath.

"Excuse me Illya, I just wanted to say that we're all on Napoleon's side; we know he's not that kind of man," she leaned in, whispering to him in hushed tones. "I know for a fact Veronica is lying."

He nearly choked on his tea, swallowing a mouthful with a cough. "For a fact?" He repeated. "Tell me what that means?"

She pulled up a chair next to him. "I had lunch with Veronica, and she told me that she was going to file a complaint against Napoleon to get even with him."

"She said this to you herself."

"Yes she did," Eunice replied with confidence.

Illya shoved his mug aside. "Would you be willing to repeat this to Mr. Waverly?"

Eunice shrugged, seemingly unaware of the decision as to Napoleon's guilt and to send him to Tartarus as his punishment. *

"Sure, I have no problem with that."

"Good, come with me now please." Illya took her by the arm, hurrying her out the door and to Waverly's conference room.

.

Napoleon was met by his partner as the door to his cell opened and he was given his freedom without fanfare. There was no discussion between them as they walked to Waverly's conference room.

"Gentlemen please come in, be seated."

They sat together in their usual places at that so familiar round table and waited for the Old Man to speak.

"Firstly let me apologize for what happened to you Mr. Solo. Miss Tate has recanted her story. She has been deprogrammed and summarily dismissed from the organization."

Napoleon remained placid as Waverly continued speaking.

"It was most fortunate Mr. Kuryakin was approached by Miss Horvath who had proof that Miss Tate was lying. He brought her to my attention and it was she who proved your innocence. Miss Tate was questioned and after being confronted with Miss Horvaths story, withdrew her complaint against you and confessed that she had lied."

Napoleon along with his partner remained absolutely still as Waverly spoke, not even trading glances with each other.

"However, when all is said and done, it comes down to you still not controlling yourself as it were. So what do you have to say for yourself young man?"

Solo bit his lower lip, thinking as he chose his words carefully.

"Yes sir, I know we've discussed it in the past, and I will try to keep my urges under better control..."

"Hmm, yes. I have heard these words before Mr. Solo, and though I know the use of sexual relations for the extrication of information while on assignment is acceptable; it is your private life in this regard that has seemed to have gotten out of control. I am, therefore, sending you for counseling with Dr. Hayes. You have to learn to control yourself Mr. Solo. I have said it before, your dalliances with the ladies will be the death of you." Waverly paused," You should take this latest incident to heart, and let it be a lesson learned."

Napoleon had no defense and simply nodded his head in agreement as he released the breath he'd been holding.

"Consider yourself quite lucky Mr. Solo, now that will be all, you are dismissed."

"Yes sir, and thank you," Napoleon answered. The two rose from their chairs, backing towards the door and turning as it opened. They walked down they grey corridor, away from Waverly's office, at first saying nothing.

"Are you really going to change your womanizing ways Napoleon?" Illya broke the silence, taking hold of his partner's arm, and pulling him to a stop.

Solo smiled, "Of course not. I am what I am."

"You are incorrigible."

"Yep," Napoleon started walking again, with the Russian still at his side. "By the way, thank you for saving my butt, again."

"You are welcome, though I was merely a mediator, getting Miss Horvath to speak to the Old Man. Just remember, I will always have your back, even though at times you do not make it easy for me," Illya smiled. "And what about your counseling with Dr. Hayes?"

"I'll ace psyche...I always do, just like you."

Illya cocked an eyebrow. "That is not the point, perhaps it is time to listen to what Dr. Hayes has to say," he hesitated speaking his mind. "Did you ever consider that you might be addicted to sex? It is a legitimate..."

"Me addicted to sex, come on you have to be kidding!" Napoleon's face betrayed his dismay. "I've turned down a roll in the hay with many a woman. Do you think I have sex with every..."

"Well your braggadocio does make it seem that way at times."

"Illya, sometimes it's just that, bragging. It's part of the Solo persona, the reputation..."

That came as a revelation to the Russian. "So would you estimate you go to bed with say, five out of ten women?" He supposed a fifty-fifty percentage might be a good guess.

"More like seven out of ten my friend," he joked, but there was a ring of truth to it.

They parted ways in the corridor and when Illya was out of sight, Napoleon paused before turning to the elevator, with the intention of heading up to Medical and Dr. Hayes' office. He wasn't willing to admit it to his partner that he just might be right...

.

* Note: thanks to Gina Martin (GM) for coining the term 'Tartarus.' A prison facility located on an island at the South Pole where agents 'gone bad' are sent.


End file.
